


Dreams Come True

by Anonymous



Series: Wee Omens [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: ABDL, Age Play, Bed-Wetting, British fic we say nappies, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Nanny Ashtoreth role play, Omorashi, Wetting, baby angel, bubble baths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 04:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20269849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Aziraphale starts to experience age play desires and develops a crush on a certain ex-nanny. Crowley signs up immediately.





	Dreams Come True

**Author's Note:**

> In the novel, Nanny Ashtoreth is described as follows: "Something about her might have said nanny, but... it also coughed discreetly and muttered that she could well be the sort of nanny who advertises unspecified but strangely explicit services in certain magazines."
> 
> Also in the novel, Nanny Ashtoreth cares for Warlock from babyhood, so Crowley has some caregiving skills. 
> 
> This follows on from this fic which might be worth reading first https://archiveofourown.org/works/20243611

Aziraphale had observed with interest, while watering the window boxes, how good Crowley was with the baby. Giving him baths, tickling his feet, bottle feeding, changing his nappies. How helpless baby humans were, with their little toesy-wosies, and yet here one was in the arms of a _demon_. It would all end in a bedtime story about death and destruction and the single-minded pursuit of power, but there was a tender love that seemed to Aziraphale to be beyond the scope of being an undercover fallen angel who was perverting the course of the apocalypse.

He had witnessed a tenderness Crowley didn’t want Aziraphale to see. He was touched by Nanny's fondness for the child and her instinct to indulge him, not to mention her surprising patience when the child acted up. Nanny showed much more calm than Mr and Mrs Dowling did, and more patience than Aziraphale had himself, he mused.

He had watched and wondered what it must be like to be cared for in such a way. Such intimacy. To have that bond. No matter how sad, or tired, or errant, or mucky, Nanny would care for Warlock. It occurred to Aziraphale then that Crowley must be teaming with love deep down.

* * *

All these years later, Aziraphale would watch Crowley lurk demonically when then were customers in his bookshop. But as soon as they were alone, the demon would wordlessly bring the tired bookseller a cup of tea. And a good cuppa he made too, for an agent of Hell. 

Angels shouldn't technically need sleep, but Aziraphale desired to be a good bookseller, running a tight ship, and often found himself fatigued by the end of a working week. Plus his natural anxiety kept him on his toes in general. So indulging in a good night's rest was somewhat medicinal, not to mention a comfort. Sometimes Crowley joined him, and sometimes the demon preferred to patrol Soho, encouraging ideas for lame tattoos and inspiring bad eating choices. 

As such, Crowley was up to no good near a kebab shop one night, while his worn out angel was sleeping soundly in his bed, light years away in a pleasant dream.

_Little Aziraphale was floating in bliss, totally cared for, his favourite blanket wrapped around him. With a little wriggle, he heard the crinkling of his nappy as he got comfortable. Now he was all snuggled up in nanny’s arms, safe and warm. He felt himself starting to drift off, and relaxed everything. He knew he was wetting his nappy, but he knew it was okay. He would have a nice long snooze before nanny changed him again. And then she would cuddle him again._

_ Perfect. _

Aziraphale woke up with a start, immediately feeling the absence of those loving arms. But the next thing he felt was warm, wet sheets. 

‘Fuck,’ he said. 

* * *

Aziraphale could wet the bed if he wasn’t careful with the tea, or the wine, and if Crowley hadn’t been present for it, he always knew the angel had had an accident from his subdued behaviour in the mornings. He was a little meek and distracted until at least elevenses. 

Crowley had showed up in the morning after a long night of being demonic, and was observing the awkward behaviour. He didn’t want to embarrass him by bringing it up, but the angel seemed more bothered than usual today. So he decided to say something when they closed the shop and sat down to elevenses, an espresso for the demon and a small pot of tea for the angel.

‘What’s wrong, angel?’ he asked softly, but with a firm gaze.

‘Oh, nothing. I expect I didn’t sleep well,’ Aziraphale answered blithely, refusing to meet Crowley’s eyes. 

‘So you didn’t wet the bed, then?’ Crowley spoke like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Aziraphale gave him a dangerous look as he poured the tea into his cup.

‘Please don’t be embarrassed, angel,’ continued Crowley. ‘It’s just bodies doing what bodies do. And this is me. A bit of wee-wee doesn’t bother me.’

The angel sighed heavily. ‘Well, it was rather a lot of wee-wee,’ he said grumpily.

Crowley snorted. ‘Same difference. Doesn’t bother me.’

Aziraphale attempted a weak smile. ‘Well, that’s lucky,’ he said, sipping from his teacup. 

‘If it upsets you that much, have you thought about wearing something?’

The angel spluttered his tea and dabbed his chin with a napkin, fighting to regain composure. ‘Oh Crowley,’ he grumbled.

‘There are very discreet things for adults these days,’ said Crowley, kindly. ‘Plus, you would look _ adorable _ in some Huggies. They make them for _ little angels _, you know.’ He grinned impishly.

‘Crowley!’ said Aziraphale sharply.

‘Sorry,’ sniggered the demon, smiling warmly at his angel. ‘But if you’d like me to miracle you some, let me know. You might sleep better.’

‘Well there’s hardly any point, is there,’ said Aziraphale impatiently. ‘I just miracle it away afterwards anyway. It’s more the fact that I can’t control…’ he trailed off, blushing into his tea. Then he looked rather angrily at Crowley. ‘And then you’re there, getting turned on by all of it!’

Crowley recoiled in alarm. ‘Angel,’ he said, worried, shaking his head. ‘I promise you I’m not. I… made a mistake, I admit. But I wouldn’t get turned on by anything that was upsetting you. Not ever.’

Aziraphale sighed, feeling a bit sheepish. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… lash out.’

Crowley placed his hand on the angel’s. ‘It’s all right. Just let me know what you need, or what you don’t need.’

Aziraphale looked at him, desperately wanting to burrow into Crowley’s arms and be held. His eyes felt watery and he looked away, blinking.

‘Aziraphale,’ prompted Crowley, so tenderly, rubbing his thumb over the angel’s hand. ‘What is it?’

The angel bit his lip. ‘I had a dream that you were taking care of me.’

‘Really?’ said Crowley, perking up as if he’d been praised. 

‘Yes. Although, you weren’t _you_. You were... the nanny. Nanny Ashtoreth, no less.’

Crowley’s mouth fell open in surprise. ‘Ohhhh,’ he intoned. 'I see.'

‘Yes,’ said Aziraphale primly, shifting in his seat.

‘And, er,’ breathed Crowley, treading _ very _ gently. ‘When Nanny Ashtoreth was taking care of you, were you… _ you _?’

Aziraphale was hardly breathing by this point. He squirmed and tried to keep his back straight. ‘I was…’ he closed his eyes shut as he started to say it. ‘... a baby. Or small child.’

‘Awwww,’ said Crowley. ‘_ Baby angel _.’

‘Oh shut up!’

‘No no no I’m not making fun of you!’ said Crowley sincerely. ‘I love it. That’s so sweet. My baby angel.’ He looked proud of himself again.

‘Yes. Well. You were rather good at taking care of the fake baby antichrist, despite your demonic influence, so clearly you know a thing or two about caring for…’

‘Babies?’

‘Yes. And toddlers. Or something.’ Aziraphale shrugged and tried to remain nonchalant. 

Crowley shifted close to Aziraphale, as if about to impart a secret in a very public place. He spoke softly and steadily. ‘Angel, would you like us to try that?’

‘No!’ said Aziraphale crossly, going very red and putting his hands in his lap as he squirmed. 

Crowley studied the body language, eyes narrowing. Aziraphale pressed his thighs together and covered his crotch but Crowley carefully moved one hand. There it was. The angel was trying to conceal an erection.

‘Angel,’ said Crowley, seductively. ‘I think my baby boy’s been telling Nanny fibs.’

Aziraphale shivered. 

‘Oh that’s it,’ said Crowley simply, standing up and clapping his hands. ‘We’re doing this. You need it.’

‘I can’t! We can’t! You can’t!’

‘Why not?’

‘I am an _ angel _. I can’t pretend to be… a human… infant. With you…’

Crowley put his hands on his hips and Aziraphale shivered again. The demon smirked. He sauntered towards his angel and tilted his chin up, leaning down to kiss him sweetly for a few alluring and reassuring seconds. He looked beseechingly at his angel. 

‘Do you trust me?’ asked Crowley.

Aziraphale looked up at him with his big baby blue eyes. ‘Yes. Always.’

There was a whip and a swirl in the air, and Crowley presented as Nanny Ashtoreth, complete with her knitted tweed suit, looking severely at her charge.

‘Come with me, dear,’ she chimed tartly in melodic Scottish tones. She held out her hand.

Aziraphale took it, and breathlessly followed. 

She took him to the bedroom, sat on the bed, and pulled him into her lap. ‘Now, if we’re having accidents, it’s okay. Just tell Nanny. You’re not a bad boy for having an accident.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘But I do want you to tell me if it happens. And I want you to tell me if you need to go. And if you don’t tell me, I’ll be cross. And, sweetheart, if you do keep having accidents, then Nanny will have to put you in your Huggies for a little while.’

Aziraphale scowled, but Nanny gave him a severe look, and the angel acquiesced with a solemn nod. 

‘Good boy. Now show Nanny where you wet the bed.’

‘I cleaned it!’ said Aziraphale indignantly. 

‘Show me anyway, please.’

Aziraphale pointed to his side of the bed, where there had been a large wet spot until he’d willed it away with a distressed and ashamed miracle. Nanny snapped her fingers and the bedding plumped up not just clean, but freshly and immaculately laundered and pressed. The room was filled with the scent of vanilla and nutmeg. And Aziraphale sensed it immediately - _ love _. He felt his bottom lip wobble. 

‘That’s a special Nanny touch,’ she explained. The angel found himself feeling 1000 times better and hugged his Nanny tightly around the waist. 

‘Come on, then,’ said Nanny sweetly. ‘Let’s go and play in the bookshop.’

* * *

Aziraphale did not reopen the bookshop that day. Instead, Nanny and Little Angel spent many hours looking though children's books, snoozing, playing card games and making sandwiches for tea. As evening arrived, Little Aziraphale hated the idea of the day coming to an end. He wanted more from Nanny and less from his own, worried mind. He needed to be littler. 

It was all he could think about. He jiggled from leg to leg, squeezing himself through his trousers. If he wet himself, Crowley, or rather Nanny, would put him in a nappy. He wanted that to happen. But he couldn’t ask for it. So he had to _make_ _it_ happen.

But his mind was rebelling. He’d promised to tell Nanny when he needed to go as well, and he wondered if he’d be in trouble for doing this. 

He squirmed breathlessly, pressing his thighs together. Any moment now, matter would win over mind, and he’d make a mess of the lovely little suit Nanny had dressed him in - cornflower blue shirt, cream waistcoat and trousers, snuggly fitting his little plump frame. He shuffled over to where he thought Nanny might be. She was sitting in a chair reading a book, and looked up over her dark sunglasses, immediately identifying that some sort of mischief was afoot.

‘Does my little angel need something?’ she asked, a note of warning in her voice. 

‘No,’ lied Aziraphale, blatantly clutching himself in the crotch and shifting from foot to foot. ‘I want to play a game,’ he said. One leg jiggled dramatically.

Nanny looked very stern. ‘Aziraphale,’ she said, her voice chocolatey. ‘Are you being a naughty boy? Does Nanny need to take you to the toilet?’

‘No, I don’t need to go yet!’ he squealed. He dashed over to the cookery books. ‘I want to make a cake!’ he said.

Nanny put her book down with steely calm and stood up, crossing over to her wriggling angel. ‘Angel,’ she said, more warning in her voice now. ‘We can do that later. Let’s go to the bathroom now.’

‘No, Nanny. Not yet!’ mumbled her angel, squatting down to find a book. He selected a favourite one on cakes and stood up straight, waving the book at his Nanny while still holding himself with his other hand. He crossed his legs with a gasp but still gazed up at her hopefully. 

‘Let’s make the one with pink icing,’ he said with excitement. ‘Oh!’ 

It happened. He looked down his cream trousers as he felt a burst of heat in his pants. A dark stain spread rapidly under his hand and seeped over his thighs. He quickly dropped the book to use his other hand to hide his accident from Nanny. 

It was of course futile, as his little hands could only cover up so much. He stood in front of his displeased Nanny and fully wet himself. It rushed down his legs, soaking his trousers, socks and shoes. When he’d finished, he stood, ashamed, in a puddle. 

‘Sorry, Nanny,’ he whimpered. ‘Accident.’

Nanny put her hands on her hips. ‘Now, now,’ she scolded. ‘You knew very well you needed to go and you ignored it. That was very naughty.’

Aziraphale pouted miserably. Nanny reached for him, taking him very gently by the elbow as she guided him upstairs. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up,’ she said.

‘You said you wouldn’t be cross if I had an accident!’ complained Aziraphale.

‘You know better than to start playing a game when you need to go.’ She was scolding him and it was upsetting. 

‘...was an accident,’ grumbled the angel.

She gave him a soft pat on his bottom. ‘Aziraphale, do not tell fibs. You shouldn’t have put it off.’

‘Yes, Nanny,’ said Aziraphale meekly. 

She led him into the bathroom and miracled a frothy bubble bath that smelt of chamomile. Then, with breathtaking tenderness, she delicately stripped off the angel’s wet day clothes, kissing him on his tummy. Aziraphale simply let her, completely enchanted.

Nanny lifted him into the bath, and he sank pleasantly into the hot bubbles, his fluffy hair curling damp in the steam. With a quirky gesture, she animated the rubber ducks so they were swimming and quacking around her naughty angel. She kissed him on the head as he giggled, a mite embarrassed, sharing a bubble bath with bright yellow ducks. 

Nanny knelt down by the bath, her face close to his. ‘You wet yourself for attention, my little angel. That was naughty. So it’s Huggies for you from now on, until I’m sure you can behave.’

Aziraphale shrank guiltily into the bubbles. ‘Yes Nanny. Sorry Nanny,’ he said sweetly. He was relieved Crowley had caught on. The demon was freakishly good at this. 

He played with one of the ducks that was nibbling his finger with its beak. 

‘Am I in trouble now?’ he asked, wondering if his Nanny was still to punish him. 

Nanny stroked his damp hair. ‘I think you know you did wrong. And I think you’re going to be my good little angel now, aren’t you?’

The angel nodded. He made a mental note to be a little bit naughty again one day soon, to see what Nanny would do, but for now, bubbles, being cosy, and pleasing Nanny were all he wanted. 

Nanny smiled. ‘I’ll be watching how many cups of tea my little angel helps himself to. He knows not to have more than two a day because it can make him wet. So if he disobeys Nanny, he’ll get a good telling off and a smack on the hand for every cup of tea he shouldn’t have.’

Aziraphale instinctively hid his hands under the bubbles, knowing full well he’d had five cups of tea today. 

Nanny stood. ‘So he’d better be good from now on,’ she said ominously. She was so very imposing at times. Maybe he wouldn’t test her. 

The angel mulled things over as he watched the rubber ducks splash about in the bath, feeling delightfully squirmy. He looked up at his Nanny, adoringly. Nanny smiled darkly.

* * *

She towelled him off, her naked angel so very much the cute tubby cherub, and ushered him to the bedroom.

‘It’s bedtime. You’re wearing this.’ She sat down on the bed and held up a snug nappy, miracled to the perfect size for him. It was decorated with angel wings. She patted the bed beside her, indicating that her little angel should hop up and let her see to him.

‘No!’ shouted Aziraphale folding his arms across his chest. He was really starting to have fun.

The corner of Nanny’s mouth twitched up but she shot him a glare. ‘Do you want ice cream when we’re at the park tomorrow?’

Aziraphale thought about that for a moment, then with a theatrical pout, got up on the bed and lay down on his back, allowing Nanny to sort him out. There was something in the surrender that felt like the greatest peace he’d ever known. Who knew that such vulnerability could feel so safe.

Nanny expertly fitted the nappy, then slipped on a soft pair of pyjamas that Aziraphale had never seen before. They were lime green, with cute little baby snakes all over them. A line of writing said, ‘I love danger noodles’. 

The entire act of being bathed and dressed was heavenly. Aziraphale allowed himself to be pulled up into a cuddle. 

‘That’s better,’ cooed Nanny. ‘That’s my good little angel.’

There was a wink, definitely from Crowley, and Aziraphale felt as light as a feather. Nanny slipped off her shoes and shimmied up the bed, tucking her angel under the covers while holding him in her arms. He cuddled up to her with a sleepy murmur. 

‘There you go, poppet. Cuddles with Nanny.’

Her little angel fell into a deep sleep. 

He woke up once, feeling a nagging pressure in his abdomen, and wiggled his hips. The crinkling nappy and his snug pyjamas reminded him in his daze that he could let go. He felt wonderful, and cosy, and warm - just a little bit naughty but also very, very good, because he was doing as he was told, and the rest of the bed would stay dry. He was a _ good little angel _. So he lay in Nanny's arms as he wet his nappy with a long, contented sigh, and was sure he felt his hair being stroked for a good long while as he drifted back off to sleep. 


End file.
